


Fruela - saved by White

by queefqueen



Series: Fruela series [1]
Category: Valdemar Series - Mercedes Lackey
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-29
Updated: 2013-12-29
Packaged: 2018-01-06 15:30:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1108498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queefqueen/pseuds/queefqueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fruela, a street girl from a northeastern Valdemaran town having a bad day is about to be put in pillory when she sees something large and white pushing its way towards her through the mob. Bad ideas and poor writing are the author's own :), the Valdemar Universe and all that is Mercedes Lakey's.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Life sucks

This was not a good day for Freula. She had not managed to find a customer all day. Not that that was for lack of self promotion, as she had hitched what passed as a skirt above the knees and her small breasts were a mere nipple away from being totally bared.

Her skirt was an off-white rag and her tunic – a recycled castaway from an affluent home – had once been turquoise. Her slender legs were shod in crudely carved cogs with an intricate pattern of splatters of unknown but best left unidentified origin. Yet even in the cheapest area of the marketplace she found no takers. The rough and brutish men preferred their women to have more meat on their bones. Thus the scrawny teen was passed over for more curvy bodies. The dirt and bruises on her skin didn't help much, either. Or maybe it was because faded turquoise did not quite suit her complexion. Her large green-grey eyes with a heavy curtain of crusty eyelashes could easily be mistaken for wells of madness. Her dark blonde hair was matted with dirt and hung in uncombed slightly wavy strands down to her elbows. Several whiteheads surrounded by aureoles of reddened skin gave testimony to her age. Around fourteen, nobody knew for sure.

Her one redeeming feature was her teeth. Her faked lascivious smile showed that, though not particularity even, all her teeth were still there.

Hunger was driving her crazy - had been all day, if not all her life - and in the early afternoon she snapped. Two wagons tried to pass one another in a tight spot and locked corners. The drivers were at the stage of cracking whips over their heads, which inevitably brought in a crowd looking for entertainment. If the discussion over right of way went badly there would be blood from their mutual flogging. Pure fun!

In the commotion she grabbed a pie from the stall and tried to run for it. But her cog slipped on something - probably horse shit, though she didn't want to think much about that - and she fell on her back and was caught by the panting teenage boy assisting his parents in the pie-stall. He screamed in triumph as he caught her arm and then in pain as she bit him. A fist to the face whacked her head against the ground and she was too dazed to struggle. Strong hands grabbed her and a kick or two encouraged her to get to her feet. She felt that herself being dragged away but Fruela did not care anymore. She had lost the pie.

"To the stocks! To the block!" She could hear the crowd scream. "Take a paw off the stealing git! Pillory and cats! Take 'er paw orf! Pillory and cats!" Terrified, she prayed for the chopping block. She'd manage without a hand – she could spread her legs just as well without it, but rotten vegetables, stones and a couple of enraged cats thrown at her face would cost her whatever beauty she might posses – ripped lips, torn nostrils and ears if she was lucky. Both her eyes if she wasn't. –Let it be the block, let it be the block,– she prayed to whatever Goddess or God would care to listen. And she howled with fright like an animal.

Finally she was thrown onto the Justice platform at the corner of the marketplace. With the sentence already passed by the mob, an impromptu jury of several men was engaged in a tug of war over the method of execution. She was being alternatively jerked towards the stocks and the block. The pain made her howl even louder. Amongst the mob she could see some boys and girls she knew and worked with. They were screaming for bloody punishment along with the others. Why? They were just like her. Why did they wish her ill? Had she ever wronged them? WHY?

With her vision blurred by the jostling and tears she thought she saw something large and white pushing its way towards the platform, shoving people out of its way.


	2. Saved!

Toitila pushed his way through the crowd, shoving the rabble aside. His Companion, Piast, was just behind him. He had jumped from the saddle when the crowd had blocked their way. Even on foot his height gave him a good view of where he was heading and what was happening on the platform. " _Stocks stocks stocks_ ," he whispered semi-consciously.

The ultimately selected course of due process was indeed pillory in the stocks. Most of the mob howled approvingly with a sprinkling of catcalls from the disillusioned "take 'er paw orf" party. Fortunately for the girl, putting her in the stocks was more time consuming than a quick chop with a cleaver. Ignoring insults from those he and the Companion had trampled, he clambered onto the platform up the short and steep flight of steps just as the stocks were slammed shut. The men were about to lock them.

_–I'm blocking the steps.-_

_-Good!-_

The skinny and dirty girl, who had been struggling to this point, went limp.

He smashed his fist into the face of the largest man of the group in charge of due process. He roared "STOP!" and shoved another jury member off the platform. He threw the top of the stocks open and grabbed the little rag under his arm.

Keeping the girl behind him he held up his free arm and repeated:

"STOP! Stop in the name of the Queen!"

Piast was doing a fine job in blocking access to the platform by way of the steps. Jumping in place, stomping on feet and nipping gave the stallion room to mill about.  
Toitila kicked off a few citizens trying to drag themselves onto the platform.

"STOP. Court will be held tomorrow! I arrest her in the name of the Crown!"

Happily, the booing aimed at him was subsidising as the outer reaches of the assembled populace turned their hostility towards the guards breaking up the mob.

\- _Good_ , he thought, _I won't have to draw steel and Piast won't have to trample to kill._

- _They don't seem inclined to rush me_.- the stallion confirmed

Toitila walked down the steep steps slowly, with his face the crowd. The steepness of the steps made this a bit inconvenient but he preferred not to turn his back on the thinning mob. Piast stopped turning in place and pacing, and placed himself between the Herald and the remnants of the mob. The herald looked down on the girl. She was holding her face down, so all he could see was the top of her head. Was there something there?

"Are you hurt?" he asked the sobbing girl.

The bird's nest shook in denial.

"Can you walk?" he asked her again.

This time the shaking was affirmative. And there WAS something moving there!

"I will now hand you over to the Guard." The girl stumbled away as if trying to run, but he was holding her arm too tightly. She gave up and clung to his leg instead.

"They will not hurt you, I'll make sure. And tomorrow at Court I'll establish what put you on the platform," he reassured her.

Her head hung even lower and shoulders sagged at these words.

The delicate waif looked scared but was too weak and tired to make a fuss when he had passed her to the Guard, along with warning of retribution to the man that laid an inappropriate hand on her.

Heading towards the inn he finally relaxed.

- _You actually feared that, Chosen? You considered reminding them not to have "fun" with the girl necessary? You actually are worried that they would rape her, dirty and louse ridden as she was? -_

 _-I firmly believe there are no limits to the vileness or stupidity of my fellow man And she's had more than enough for today_.-

For once he was grateful for the Whites. Even if dust-covered from the ride to town, the fabric still served as revealing background for the passengers that had hopped onto him from the waif quite nicely.


	3. The Monster Rises

Looking at his reflection in the mirror, Herald Toitila thought of the girl he had met yesterday. He simply could not clear her from his mind. After having felt her lithe body against his and seeing what had passed between them he felt he just couldn't go around as shaggy as he was just now. He scratched his bearded face. – This'll have to go, he decided.

The Sun bounced off merrily from his freshly shaved face as he entered the Court House in his immaculate Whites. The breeze gently caressed his pale cheeks, which were unaccustomed to the lack of facial hair. Toitila had noted in the barber's mirror that the tanned forehead and cheekbones against the pale scalp and rest of the face made him look odd. – Nothing a few days in the fresh air won't fix, he thought, and shrugged.

He left the Court house with a girl in tow. The case of "Fruela, orphan of unkown surname" had been one of the last. He took pity in the girl and paid for the pie, the fine, and appointed himself her guardian. He was tired of Circuit riding and during his overdue leave would try to set her up in life. He felt that this is something he should do.

He led Fruela to the inn's stable and left her in Piast's care. He went to the main building for a moment but came back within a few minutes, carrying some smoked sausages. He gave the girl some to munch upon while he attended to his Companion. He tried to make small talk but Fruela used the sausages as an excuse to make noncommittal grunts.

_\- She seems scared of you, Chosen._

_\- So I gather ..._

_\- Why did you bring her here?_

_\- She's crawling, Piast. I don't want her in the room before she's clean. I arranged for a bath. And hired somebody to do the job. That will keep the rumour mill from spinning._

_\- I mean why did you bring her here with you. What do you plan for her?_

_\- I'm ... not quite so sure myself ..._

A servant told him that the water and the girls were ready. This made Fruela look up and examine Toitila suspiciously. "You are getting a bath," he told her. She continued to look at him with a quizzical expression. "But your hair goes off first," he added. "I've seen your lice. Wail and wave your arms you all want, it's going. Resistance is futile."

As they walked up the stairs he missed the innkeeper's glaring eyes on his back. They detoured to pick up a shirt from his packs on the way to the bathing room. It was hot and steamy inside. The two young women looked surprised as he came in fully clothed and with company. Nonetheless, they beamed a warm welcome.

"Good evening, maidens. Have you got the scissors?" he asked.

"Good evening, sir. Yes," one of the girls answered with an eager smile.

"Very well them, please scrub her clean." He tightened his grip on Fruela's shoulders sensing her unease. "Use another dose of water if necessary, I'll pay. Make sure there's no lice left on her head. And I would have an extra job for you-" As he spoke he gave the girls a few fat silver coins.

By this point the Herald was red faced and had sweat run down in rivulets from his face due to the heat in the bath room. "Cut her ... erm ... lady's bush ..." he said a bit haltingly "... just in case... "

Toitila slurped the hot soup and soothed his nerves.

-So much ado about loosing a little hair. It grows back, doesn't it?- he thought irritably.

\- You won't understand, my beloved Chosen, don't you fret your pretty shaven head about it, -came a sleepy thought from his Companion.

A knock and a swing of the door produced a clean and hate brimming Fruela. She was wearing his shirt like an ankle length night gown. The sleeves were neatly rolled up several times to keep the ends above the wrists. Her skin was reddened from the heat of the bath and from the scrubbing. Her face bled a bit from places where the scrubbing had ripped off the whiteheads. An uneven crew-cut graced her head.

"You look pretty!" he said, trying to put her at ease, but she only glared at him. If looks could kill he'd be a dead man.

"Delicious mushroom soup." He pointed invitingly at the thick walled pot and empty bowl.

To his surprise she stomped around him and threw herself at the bed, disappearing under the blankets.

He scratched his bristle covered scalp. "You sure you don't want the soup?"

"NO!" Though it was muffled by the blankets, it still had a very final ring to it.

He shrugged and ate his fill, took seconds and belched contentedly, then got up and checked the bed, covering a bit of bony leg sticking out from under the blanket. He opened the internal door and went to the adjoining room. After peeing in the chamber pot, he undressed and blew out the lamp before clambering unto the bed. In a few moments he began to snore.

Rasmunda the innkeeper shook her head with disgust when the bathing girls reported on what the Herald had wanted. What filthy swine men were! The poor little thing! Breastless and rumpless, that she could comprehend. One third his weight and a foot shorter than he was - that she could comprehend. Under age – even this she could comprehend. But SHORN high and low?!

That was one seriously messed up customer, she thought. Could be a Herald thing, though. The stories she'd heard about them ... But then again, their Companions had long MANES and TAILS. So why the shearing?

– Swine, all of them, she said to herself rolling her eyes.

Toitila got up at dawn. He lifted Fruela from the floor where they had slept and put her into one of the beds. She opened her eyes and looked at him through her eyelashes while he was tucking her in but slipped back into sleep again. He dressed quietly and went out.

In the common room he asked a maid relighting the fire for the person in charge at this hour. The innkeeper was already up and he gave her instructions – in case Fruela woke up – for the girl to be fed and kept in the room as he expected to be back within two or three candlemarks. He'd eat then, too. The Herald missed the hostile glare he got in return.

Rasmunda thought – Fat chance I'll keep her in, ye perverse pig! Should the girl try to bolt I'll help her myself!

After checking on Piast he headed on foot towards the Guards' cantonment.

He always was present at executions he had mandated. Although not a legal requirement per se, this had been hammered into him years before at the Collegium by his mentor. Herald Palovnick had taught all his charges that if you can't look in the eye of the man you have sentenced to death, then you should not have given such a verdict. Not to mention the fact that it looked good from the side, too – the Act of Justice being witnessed by the Herald and all that.

By the time the fourth and last man stopped kicking it was light. With a clear conscience he walked back, intending to take a detour to the market. He had some shopping to do.

The servant had checked the room with the still sleeping Fruela and sprinted downstairs with the latest news. After the servant had breathlessly relayed what she had seen the innkeeper was speechless. The Herald must have had taken the poor girl on the floor! Like a savage BEAST! As if a bed was not enough for his debauchery! The authorities had to be warned of this monster.

The market was already half awake when Toitila got there. He walked into the first stall he found that sold female clothing. He could tell a skirt from a dress – on a good day, that was. And he felt that this was his good day.

Five minutes and some coins changing hands later he left the trader's shack. Buying that stuff was easier than he had expected - he showed the girl's height - "about this high" - and explained that she was skinny - and the trader picked the necessary items assuring him that they'll fit. He ordered the purchases – smalls, hankies, undershirts - to be delivered to the inn, but decided to bring the two dresses with him. One was a plain striped green and orange number, the other was cheerful looking pink with all the "frills" – as he casually dismissed all the various embellishments and details – in bold purple.


	4. Monster cornered

Herald Basilissa surfaced from her mindspeech trance with a slightly baffled expression on her face. She looked up at her intern, Astrid. "We are to make a detour to Pomentee. We are to investigate one of our Brother Heralds suspected of grossly inappropriate behavior."

"What? How's that possible?" Astrid gasped. "How could his Chosen condone it?"

"That's what Herald Tapir told me." She kept the remaining details to herself in spite of more or less obvious angling for more from her ward. Somehow "bestial intercourse" and "little girls" did not fit her image of the Herald in question. She had spent two stints on circuit with him - almost three years - and if anything, he was annoyingly overprotective of his Sister Heralds. But you never knew with men. They did seem to like them younger with age.

She sighed. Occasionally as pig headed as they come, and not the sharpest arrow in the Queen's quiver, she still remembered him as a good man. None of the gossip she'd ever heard hinted at anything wrong about him. She felt that something about the whole affair was out of order. - I'll get to the bottom of this-, she decided. -And I'll do it my way, too.- She decided to keep it strictly to Heralds - she did not think that the Chosen would be of much help here, the weakness of Toitilas Mindspeech also being a potential variable.

They intercepted him in Pomentee. The Sister Herald and Intern looked up at the road at the approach of the tall Herald accompanied by a short girl in a tight fitting scarf over her head on an overgrown pony.

"You haven't told me what he's accused of yet," the Internee sniffed.

"I suppose I have to tell you some point – supposedly he is keeping that girl as his sex slave."  
She heard a startled gasp. "And doing horrible things to her, like shearing her head like a sheep. When we meet them and take them to the inn you are to..." She gave Astrid her instructions, glancing at the road every now and then.

The suspect Herald greeted them heartily. He lifted Herald Basilissa from the ground in a bear hug and smothered her in his embrace. Astrid silently sucked in air at the sight of her mentor's audacity. The cheerful looking suspected pervert was the largest Herald she had ever seen. Basilissa barely reached his shoulder, and he looked as if he could rip her apart like a wishbone. He then greeted her with courtesy. Fruela was introduced as his charge, who in turn meekly greeted the two women in White. After some small talk at the table, the female Herald sent the Internee and Fruela away on the pretext of having Astrid show Fruela her room.

Basilissa made small talk, inquiring about the situation in the Circuit, as he had just concluded his shift. She had good reason for it, as it was adjacent to hers from the north. Toitila cheerfully volunteered that was doing the Courts as Herald Alyssa had broken her leg and for the last few weeks of their shift he managed the Circuit himself. As she was the Senior Herald on the Circuit the relief duo had gone to her for the transfer of duties. Alyssa waved him off on his leave through his Companion.

Remembering his behaviour during their previous common assignments Basilissa ordered food. This fully occupied Toitila both in mind and body. Nonetheless he expressed worry that Fruela might be hungry too, but she brushed that away by telling him that Astrid was taking care of her, doing "girly things". He accepted this solemnly, as if "girly things" explained everything. "I'm happy the girls seem to be getting along well," he confided between one bite and another. "Sometimes I feel I simply don't understand her. I could understand the Interns to some degree, but she's ... different."

Basilissa tried to keep the conversation away from Fruela, though Toitila did not seem particularly shy of the subject. Quite the contrary, in fact. Every few bites it was Fruela this or Freula that. But she did her best to lead him into other subjects. She preferred to let her investigation run its course. At the very least, that way she'd hear fewer lies.

Meanwhile, Fruela had been lured to the bath and was being subtly questioned by Astrid. A peppery smoked sausage followed by wine helped her open up while they were wallowing in the bath together.

Finally, a flushed and slightly wine-smelling Astrid rejoined the elder Heralds and announced that Fruela was sound asleep in her room. Flashing a tired yet grateful smile, Toitila lumbered off to bath. Basilissa noted that he did not seem to mind that the girls were sharing a room, nor that he had been separated from his ward. She ticked this off as a point in his favour.

After he was safely out of earshot, Basilissa looked inquiringly at her Internee. The already beaming Astrid cracked a broad smile and blurted out a seemingly random "fat old cows" and started giggling madly. Catching her mentor's uncomprehending and querying glare, Astrid leaned over the table and whispered, trying to get the message across before she broke down into giggles once more. "I talked her into taking a bath together, like you suggested. I gave her some wine and by the Goddess – did she talk. She was starved for a bosom to bosom chat!"

Astrid's excellent humour was a strong pointer that something was probably wrong with the instructions from Haven. Basilissa relaxed a bit, nodding for her intern to continue.

The younger Herald grinned and chirped with a light slur from the wine. "She's got quite a few bruises on her, but all look over a fortnight old and fading." Basilissa's frown demanded to be told more, and Astrid giggled again, holding up her hand. "OK, I'll start from the beginning before you kill me..."


	5. Through the victim's eyes - retrospective

The Court had sold her to that man, to that herald, until she was eighteen.

-Why was he telling me lies about becoming like a father for four years? He wanted a regular bed warmer and got one cheap. What other reasons could there be?

He had said that he would take her away – a good thing, too, as she did not wish to see the people who had wanted to harm her ever again. Neither the "proper" folk nor the other urchins. All had wanted to do nasty things to her yesterday. Hopefully he wouldn't beat her too much. And when he finally got her pregnant he'd probably leave her with some money instead of just giving her the boot or kicking the child out of her. In the stories the Heralds were good, weren't they? And at least she'd be fed and have a roof over her head.

By the Goddess, though, he was huge. He towered over her... which worried her for all sorts of reasons. He looked funny with his freshly shaved white head and face but with tanned cheeks and forehead. Now he said he wanted her to call him "uncle" and said that he would introduce her to his Companion. Supposedly she was too young to use his given name and Sir was too big a word. That was fishy, she decided. Must be part of a scam of some sort. And what had he said about school? Her mind had been wandering by that point.

The Companion was all right – he ate the apple the herald had given her for that purpose. Still looked like a blue-eyed white horse, though. Gave her an eye over, too – what was she, a mare?

Then a maid had called them into the inn saying that the bath and girls were ready. So, he liked it with several girls at once, she'd thought. The git! But if THAT was his worst side ... she could think of several kinks which were much worse than that. She looked at him thinking – "be like a father", rotten swine you.- But she tried to keep her expression impassive so as not to provoke a beating. The liar changed the subject and started on her being dirty and lousy and needing a haircut. And he said he was going to do WHAT to her hair?

He hadn't lied about the bath. But it wasn't him having a frolic with the other girls and her. No, it was worse. He left her with the inn's girls who cut her hair and trimmed her crotch. Initially the swine wanted her hair to be like his, but the girls – bless their hearts – joined her screaming at him that it wasn't proper so he settled on "keep it short and bug free, then". As to her bush... she was itchy there lately, true. Her South Kingdoms now looked as if she was a little girl again. Not that anybody should be able see her condition there. But her hair...

Maybe she could strangle him in his sleep. That'd get her hanged, of course. The Heralds were the Law of the Land. She had decided to keep the death-by-herald option open in case he made her life absolutely insufferable and there was no escape.

By the time she was out of the bath, he was refreshed and eating. He nodded at the food, but she wasn't born yesterday - dine, wine and you're mine – but not today. She ignored the invitation and went straight for the bed. She wasn't interested in talk or anything. She won't be playful today. Not after what he'd done to her. As long as that didn't earn her some bruises. Four more years of this ...

"Oh, I've been prepared for your pleasure, so just fuck me and leave me alone."- She thought as she clambered under the blankets and lay there. He wasn't fast in coming for her and seemed to take his time over super and eat heartily. She was torn – she dreaded his coming for her and yet she wanted to have it behind her and be able to enjoy the clean bed. Finally she heard his heavy breathing and the floor boards groaned as he walked up to the bed and covered her leg with the blanket. – "What was that supposed to mean?" - Then she heard his steps moving away.

Through the blankets she thought she heard another bed screech in protest. She lay still, listening for him to return. And then ... was that snoring?

At some point she must have drifted off.

Her dreams were full of terror, the crowd pressing in around her again, pulling her towards the stocks. She could feel the rough wood of it against her skin, splinters digging into her. The crowd's faces loomed large as they shoved her down, taunting her, spitting on her. Someone lifted a rock and there was a burst of red and white, unbearable pain lancing through her-

She screamed when she felt something touch her cheek. The pain! Her eye!

She sat up in the bed, sobbing. She could see his bulk in the darkness next to her. He made soothing noises.

"It was just a dream," he whispered.

She finally came round – she had been in the stocks, but it had only been a dream. The vegetables and mud were bearable. But it was the rocks which had hurt, the rocks that had taken half her teeth. And cats. The cats were the worst. One ear gone and bleeding, an eye ripped out.

And he had touched her cheek where - in the dream - she still had her good eye. She clung to him and sobbed into him, into the white nightshirt so like the cloak he'd worn when he'd rescued her. After a while he tried to move away. She clung harder.

"We won't fit here," he said. "I barely fit on my own." He promised he'd be right back and extracted himself from her grasp.

He went to the other room – the presence of which she now only just noticed – and after a dull thud and a few muttered curses, he came back with his bedding. He arranged it on the floor, added her blankets and beckoned to her. She joined him on the floor. The terror of the nightmare had subsidised. His white undershirt made her think of the rescue on the platform.

He'd saved her life, kept her from dying or living as a cripple...

"I'll show him that I'm grateful."- she decided. Her hands started roaming over his body, and to her surprise he shot up, snarling at her.

"I don't fuck children! What do you think I am, some animal?!" She cowered under his furious suppressed bellow covering her head with her hands and waited for the blows that didn't come. Breathing heavily, he growled, "Don't you ever think of doing it again." He patted her arm and lay down. "Sleep," he hissed and turned his back at her. She heard a few angry snorts from his side before she discerned a snore.

Confused, she snuggled against the small of his back for warmth and comfort and tried to sleep over the memory of yesterday, his startling reaction and the snoring. Goddess! The snoring!

"Married women have it tough",- she thought idly, before exhaustion got the better of the noise and she drifted into sleep.

Surprisingly not only did she come around in the bed but also it was the innkeeper herself who woke her up by asking what she'd like to eat. She noted the woman glancing angrily at the blankets on the floor while her expression softened when looking at her. Besides breakfast the 'keeper also earnestly asked her about her plans – "was she going to visit anybody in town?" And "did she need anything to be able to go out?" And "was she absolutely sure about not going out?"


	6. Wrap up and Epilogue

"...And before leaving town he clothed her and had a Healer take a look at her. They are going to Haven where she is to enter the Collegium as a Blue. By the way, is Toitila color blind?" Astrid looked at her mentor inquisitively.

"I don't think so. Although he does occasionally behave that way, in my opinion, he simply doesn't care. Men." She shrugged philosophically.

"They've been on the road since. Besides enjoying the scenery, he is brushing up on her letters and sums. And cramming her with food. If that's what being an abused sex-slave is like I'd like to be one. You've been driving me harder than that," she said, laughing.

"Expect more of the whip, then," Basilissa said solemnly. "You can start by carrying me on your back upstairs. And then seduce me by wearing an orange-green dress..."

"Mistress, mercy! Please! Anything but the dress!" The girl and her superior laughed together.

"And there's something else. I suspect the girl has a crush on Herald Toitila." When her mentor raised an eyebrow, Astrid shrugged. "Before she succumbed to the wine and exhaustion, she very much wanted to talk with you about him. To get to know him better, she said. She was very excited to learn that you are old friends, although a bit wary as to what sort of friends had you been."

"And what kind of friends did you tell her we were?" Basilissa looked very amused.

"I had to explain that you did a Circuit Tour together. She's jealous. She said that-" Astrid cleared her throat and did her best rendition of the North-Eastern dialect "and when he thinks I ain't looking he drools over titty-flapping old cows over twenty!" The internee squealed with laughter again.

Basilissa smiled – To be a teenager again ... when people over 20 were Old, those over 30 Ancient, and those over 40 had known Vanyel in the flesh. "By the way, were there any signs of Fruela having Gifts? I remember you saying that you helped with Gift identification amongst the youngest Trainees."

"Yes, I helped. To me she seems absolutely bereft of Gits, I felt absolutely nothing in her at all."

()()()()()()()()()()

Haven, fifty years later

Grey haired and stooped, Fruela cast an unseeing gaze upon the Companions Field, barely registering the graceful white bodies there. She smiled inward, looking back at the good life she'd had. First combining a few years at the Collegium with off jobs at the Palace, being a maid to the Queen, then marrying a Sergeant of the Guard, made Housekeeper, having her own brood, and seeing more than half survive childhood and marry. By now, she was a grandmother twelve times over.

Although that large white blur she had seen through her tears at the stocks fifty years ago had not been one of them, the Companions, coming to Choose her, it had changed her life all the same. Goddess bless his soul.


End file.
